


Musician's Hands (and Tongue)

by beejohnlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 22:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: John has a request. Sherlock obliges.





	

“What do you want?”

John lifted his head from the pillow and looked down at the man currently sprawled between his legs, a wicked smile on his face. John’s head fell back again and he groaned.

God, Sherlock was going to kill him, wasn’t he? John felt as though he’d been in this position for hours, Sherlock’s relentless touch bringing him to the edge over and over again but never tipping him over.

The bastard, John thought, while knowing the state he was in was entirely his own fault. He should’ve thought things through before telling Sherlock he wanted to be teased. That man never did anything by halves.

“John?” Sherlock ran the back of his knuckles along the underside of John’s weeping cock.

John gave a choked cry and thrust upward, but his efforts to come were futile as long as Sherlock was insistent on continuing to draw this out.

“Sherlock, please! Enough teasing, I…I can’t…I need to come, baby. Please make me come.”

Oh, God he was begging, wasn’t he? He should be embarrassed, he felt so…whorish. Of course, in the state he was in, that thought only succeeded in arousing him more.

“Okay, John. I think I’ve taunted you long enough.” Suddenly, Sherlock licked a long stripe up John’s erection, root to tip, his tongue flicking against the exposed head.

Before John could do more than blink, Sherlock was lifting John’s legs and spreading them, and then his mouth was-

“Oh my god!” John screamed and nearly shot off the bed as Sherlock’s tongue began massaging and probing his arsehole. Sherlock’s hands were firm against John’s thighs, holding him apart and pinning him to the mattress at the same time.

“You taste incredible, John. God, I love you so much,” John felt more than heard Sherlock, the rumbling baritone vibrating his balls and hole.

Sherlock licked John in broad strokes, every few moments thrusting his tongue against the tight sphincter. John arched his back and cried out, reaching down to take his aching cock in hand, but Sherlock smacked it away.

"Oh, no you don’t. I’m not finished with you yet.” How the fuck did he even see what John was doing from down there? Sherlock’s tongue was making some headway now, beginning to work the muscle into relaxation. John’s back arched and his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Sherlock…you’re inside me, oh god!” He felt as though he would faint. His body seemed to have other ideas though, pressing back against Sherlock, wanting his tongue deeper, wanting _**more**_.

John’s groans grew ragged and he fisted the sheets, fighting the desperate urge to jerk himself. God he was so close. Sherlock’s moans against his arsehole weren’t helping matters. John felt tight and hot all over, squirming and keening helplessly.

“Please, Sherlock…more!” The words had barely left his mouth before Sherlock pulled back. John felt suddenly empty and he writhed, making a noise that was definitely not a whine. He lifted his head to look down and saw Sherlock lubing up his fingers. John moaned brokenly and once again fell back. Sherlock was going to finger him. Oh my god.

This was the first time John had anyone inside him since James. He tried to broach the idea of pegging with Mary once. It did not go over well.

Sherlock’s finger circled his hole but didn’t penetrate. He seemed as though he were waiting for the go ahead. John cried out with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

"Sherlock, if you don’t put your fingers in me right now I think I’ll die.” John thought he might die regardless, if someone could be killed by too much pleasure.

Nevertheless, his words did the trick. Sherlock slowly slid a finger into John. John bore down, desperate to have Sherlock deeper, those long violinist’s fingers put to such lovely use now. After a few moments, Sherlock added another finger to the first and the stretch was lovely. Sherlock began scissoring and John felt his hand start to creep downward again. And then Sherlock crooked his fingers just so and gently massaged John’s prostate, and John was lost. He screamed and bucked and his hand moved of its own accord to grip his cock.

"No,” Sherlock gently took John’s hand away and he sobbed. “Please, Sherlock, I need-!”

And then Sherlock swallowed John down and his sounds of frustration quickly turned into sounds of desperate pleasure. Sherlock had one hand up John’s arse pressing against his prostate and he was sucking and swallowing all around John’s cock, and it was all too much for John to handle.

He tried to choke out a garbled warning, but he didn’t get further than “Sh-” before his orgasm was sucked and fucked out of him. He realized the noises he was making were probably ridiculous, but he couldn’t help it, he could feel his arsehole pulsing around Sherlock’s fingers, his cock pulsing in Sherlock’s mouth, and his balls emptying as the sensation rocketed through him. Sherlock kept going as John’s pulses and moans weakened, until he was sweaty and sated on the bed, nearly comatose.

Sherlock gently removed his mouth and fingers from a sensitive and sleepy John and crawled up his body. John gave a halfhearted moan at the feel of Sherlock’s hard cock pressing against his thigh and Sherlock chuckled.

“I know I took a lot out of you just now,” he said, biting his lip. “Just…don’t move for a minute.” And then Sherlock rolled on top of him and thrust. John whimpered at the stimulation against his spent cock, but by the tension in Sherlock’s body, he knew it wasn’t going to be long.

"John, you were incredible,” Sherlock breathed against John’s neck. “God, I’ve never done that to anyone before, I’ve never made anyone feel that way before. You were beautiful, so beautiful. I love you, John.”

Then Sherlock’s words turned to moans as he rocked his hips against John’s, his rhythmic thrusts devolving into desperate rutting. He kissed John sloppily and cried out into his mouth as he came between them, painting his ejaculate all over John’s stomach and soft cock, which gave a sympathetic twitch.

Sherlock got up and retrieved a damp flannel. He cleaned himself and a semi-conscious John, then curled around his lover.

"I love you so much,” John mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock kissed John and held him until his breathing grew deep and even, his heart full to bursting.

“I love you too,” he whispered. 


End file.
